


A Scattered Illusion

by agaybaddie



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: M/M, Shameless Smut, a lot of smut tbh, but it ends well, don't know how we ended up here, much to his disliking, the master is submissive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-16 04:57:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12335922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agaybaddie/pseuds/agaybaddie
Summary: One, two, three, four. The never ending drumming taking over his mind, pushing his conscience deep down under what felt like water. But the Doctor managed to make it tolerable. For now, at least. Or that’s what the Master kept telling himself. It might as well have been a scattered illusion, like most things were in his damaged mind. But for once, he didn’t care.





	A Scattered Illusion

How they’d ended up here, he didn’t know. Up against the wall of the dim lit TARDIS, their lips moving against each other in a constant rhythm. One, two, three, four. The never ending drumming taking over his mind, pushing his conscience deep down under what felt like water. But the Doctor managed to make it tolerable. For now, at least. Or that’s what the Master kept telling himself. It might as well have been a scattered illusion, like most things were in his damaged mind. But for once, he didn’t care. He didn’t need to know. Not now, maybe not ever. 

The Doctor’s hand had found its way down the Master’s clothed side and now travelled up his thigh, the tips of his fingers tugging impatiently at the fabric of his trousers. That was enough to plant a smirk on the Master’s lips, one that seconds later was wiped away by the Doctor’s hand pressing itself against the Master’s growing erection. A groan slipped past his lips, and the Doctor caught his lip in between his teeth. Bastard. 

One, two, three, four.   
The noise of his body thumping down on the mattress echoed into his ear, as the Doctor’s body was no longer connected to his own. A part of him longed for his touch again, another wanted to run away. He wasn’t in control. A scattered illusion. 

His eyes shot open, whether it was in search of the Doctor or an escape, he didn’t know. But he didn’t have the time to ponder any options that could’ve been, before the Doctor hovered above him. The Master’s hands grabbed ahold of his slank frame, pulling at the fabric of his pinstriped suit. He could’ve sworn he removed it earlier, but it didn’t matter. No time, no time. Get it off.

The demand in his head must’ve erupted from somewhere deep in his throat as well, as the Doctor let a chuckle out, hands suddenly undoing the buttons on his suit. The Master was way too pleased to dwell in his own loss of control---he’d already established that control was an illusion, and he hated repetitive patterns. How ironic. 

The Doctor had always dressed too tight, too many layers. He may have been called The Oncoming Storm, but it more or less looked like he was preparing for a storm to hit him. One, two, three, four. Layer by layer, the fabric of sweaty clothing left the Doctor’s body and exposed his flesh. The Master trembled, hands searching for the zip to his own trousers while keeping his eyes focused on the Time Lord above him. As if he’d disappear if he looked away.

Suddenly the feeling of another hand was accompanied on top of his own. The Master finally lowered his gaze. His hand was a mess, trembling, only grasping at what he thought was the key to the entrance. Shutting his eyes, he allowed a groan to slip past his lips once again. One, two, three, four. Pathetic. 

The Doctor’s lips suddenly connected with the Master’s skin, marking his neck with his teeth and whispering soothing things into his ear. The Doctor’s words might as well have been threats or a fancy way of expressing his hatred towards the man underneath him—all that the Master heard was muffled noises that his mind translated into whatever would fit him at the moment. Perhaps reality would catch up with him later, but it didn’t matter now. The Doctor’s warm touch was back against the Master’s thigh and made the breath hitch in his throat. That’s all that mattered. 

His legs parted automatically as the Doctor’s touch crept closer, way too slow for the Master’s approval. The Doctor knew very well what he was doing to him and took advantage of the fact that the Master was the submissive one now. Finally, the Doctor seemed to grow rather impatient as well, and unzipped the Master’s trousers. Kicking them off, the Master pulled his lover close and attacked his mouth with sloppy kisses to cover up the whimpers of excitement and pleasure and everything else at once. The Doctor’s arms wrapped around him, a blanket of protection, as he pushed his naked hips against against the Master’s.

Fucking the Doctor had always occurred in a state of anger or sadness, when he’d known exactly what he was doing. Every move had been calculated, and he left the Doctor bruised and limp, not caring about the damage he left behind. But this was different, the Doctor was different. Different in a way that the Master couldn’t explain--after using him so many times it was hard to imagine what it would be like to have the Doctor touch him, and the Master realized that he didn’t have any expectations. Or maybe he had. It didn’t matter. They’d never done it like this before; tender and soft, rough and playful, but everything in the name of love. He’d never allowed that to happen, because the both of them knew what that’d do. But neither of them cared this time, nor did they stop to even wonder what the consequences would be. If there would be any at all. 

The Master arched his back, nails digging into and parting the Doctor’s skin. His moans echoed throughout the TARDIS in sync with the drumming in his head and the frame of the bed slamming against the wall. One, two, three, four. One two, three, four. He could’ve never guessed it would feel this good, this right. He curled his toes in pure ecstasy as the Doctor welcomed himself deeper into him, his lips still attached to his neck while sucking on his skin. The Master searched for the Doctor’s neck, his shoulders, anything, for support as he could feel his cock throbbing. Almost there. The wave of pleasure came over him before he could stop it, before he could even remotely begin to prepare himself. The Doctor’s name was on the Master’s lips and trembling fingers were tangled in the Master’s hair as his groans grew louder and the Doctor’s thrusts slowly died down until all that could be heard was the whimpers and pants from the two Time Lords. 

One, two, three, four.   
The Master’s head was spinning and felt as dim as he remembered the TARDIS to be when they first had stepped inside. His movements now were as far from calculated as they could get, and once again he found himself not caring. With his head in the crook of the Doctor’s neck, he drew stars and galaxies they’d promised to explore together across the back of the man resting on top of him. There was nothing to be said and yet there was so much. Too much. But all that needed to be said could be found in the silence. And finally, the Doctor raised his head to meet the Master’s gaze for the first time this evening. It was so pathetic, how the lust had been replaced with pure love, and yet the Master craved nothing else. He wanted nothing else. 

And the drumming that had been so present during the whole night to remind him of the wrong he was committing was now merely a background noise tucked away in the depths of his mind. And he looked back into the eyes of his old friend and decided that this illusion was one he wanted to stay in.


End file.
